


at least i know when you'll be coming home

by natehsewell



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Ava indulges the Detective's bullshit if only because she loves her, F/F, Fluff, Pining, thats.. thats about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27695218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natehsewell/pseuds/natehsewell
Summary: Unit Bravo is about to be sent on a mission. Ava has the Detective make a promise.
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	at least i know when you'll be coming home

**Author's Note:**

> another scene from a prompt on tumblr! pre-relationship Ava YEARNS, and so does the detective.

Rebecca dismisses Unit Bravo with a grim nod, and Winona is vaguely reminded of being fifteen again, the first time Rebecca had been called by Detective Reele to come get her out of Wayhaven’s only holding cell. Not the first minor crime she’d committed, but the first time she got caught for it. Only here, she’s laying down the rules of engagement with a particularly volatile, small group of Fae that apparently broke their agreement with the Agency by having a dinner party served by humans, under the lock and key of their very potent glamor.

There are an exceptional amount of customs they are not, under any circumstances, allowed to break. 

It was about halfway through the debriefing that Winona realized this particular meeting was for her and Farah’s benefit. And maybe Morgan’s. But mostly hers and Farah’s.

Nat looked particularly stressed. Winona made a joke about how if all else fails, they can always stick an apple in her mouth and truss her up in a skimpy dress as a peace offering.

It didn’t help.

Morgan leaves first, sucking on a fresh cigarette with one hand in her pocket. Then Farah and Nat, with Nat giving Farah a very clear, explicit list of things she’s allowed and not allowed to do. So far, the only thing on the “allowed” list is not speaking unless spoken to, and even then she advises caution. The “not allowed” list is much longer.

Rebecca next, giving her and Ava a goodbye. She stops next to Winona once, raises her hand, about to put it on her shoulder. Winona stiffen sharply, and she drops it, fingers curling at her side. 

“Can we talk later?” She asks quietly. Like Ava can’t hear her clear as day. Winona watches Ava turn to the side, glaring at the wall, as if to give them the illusion of privacy. 

“About what?” Winona sighs, rolling back on her heels and shoving her hands in her pockets.

“I’d like to discuss some specifics about the mission with you.” And Rebecca’s all business again, her tone reserved, her shoulders straight. Better.

Winona glances back to Ava, and finds her staring. Winona’s breath hitches. Ava holds her gaze, her expression unreadable, but not hard, not sharp, even as she crosses her arms. 

“Winona.” Rebecca repeats, and it just barely draws her out of the blast radius of Ava du Mortain, with her green eyes and her dark pink mouth.

“Yeah, yeah.” Winona nods, not quite sure what she’s agreeing to, but it seems to satisfy Rebecca, because after another nod of agreement, Rebecca turns and leaves.

And now it’s just her and Ava and the gaping mouth of space between them. 

Ava is the first to move, for once, crossing the room in a few short strides. Her knuckles bleach, clenching her arms, and Winona watches the rise and fall of her chest, the sudden tension of her muscle, all fine line and sculpted curve. 

For a moment, Ava reminds her of a statue, marble and ancient and lovely, lovelier than it should be. 

“Detective,” she speaks, and Winona finds her gaze. Her eyes, slanted into cautious slits, her mouth drawn, and there’s a sudden impulse to reach up and soothe away the divot between her eyebrows.

She curls her hand into a fist, presses it tight against her thigh.

It’s a _weird_ impulse, and she doesn’t like this— this feeling, stirring hotly in her chest. It’s uncomfortable, like someone running their fingers along her skin, and she takes a step back, clears her throat, tries to get some distance. “You need something?” 

Ava pauses, working her jaw. Breaks eye contact, and then draws it back. She can’t quite decide where she wants to look, if she wants to look at Winona at all. Winona wishes she would, and doesn’t like that much, either. 

“I must ask something of you.” She finally says, uncrossing her arms, clasping her hands behind her back, and there’s a cord of… hesitation? Worry? Winona doesn’t know what to call it, but when Ava speaks, she feels it like a question mark, a curling page. Something to be noted, and tucked away.

“I was kidding about the skimpy dress thing, She-Ra. I’m gonna bring all my clothes to the fairy party. Promise.”

“I—” Ava jerks back, and it’s— well, it’s not _cute,_ but that genuine confusion leaves her off-guard, and Winona can’t help but grin a little at the sight of Ava’s round eyes, her relaxed mouth. “No, that was not what I was going to ask.” She pauses. Looks Winona over carefully, as if she’s considering the likelihood of that happening and finding it all far too possible. “But you will _not_ do that.”

“Sure I won’t.” Winona says, putting on a pretense of innocence, and Ava sighs, laden with long-suffering exhaustion.

She takes a step forward, verging on invading Winona’s space, and swallows hard. “I must ask that you stay near me while we are there.”

And that— that is not what she was expecting. Ava isn’t scowling, she’s… she’s watching, her hands coming loose at her side, inching forward. And she says it quietly. Softer than anything Winona would expect from her, and her mind fogs up a bit, trying to make sense of all that. Trying to connect the dots between Ava, who does not linger and does not touch her, with this.

“Huh?” 

“The supernaturals we are meeting likely will not harm you, if only because of your association with the Agency. But I would not put it past them to attempt some sort of…” her frown deepens, her lip twisting slightly, “game. Your immunity to their glamor will no doubt further their curiosity—it will be safest for you if you remain near me during this mission.”

_Me,_ she says. Not us, not Unit Bravo or Nat or Morgan or Farah— _me_ , and a rush of emotion she can’t put a name to flushes along Winona’s chest, crawls up her throat to settle in her cheeks. 

Winona tries to think of a rebuttal, but Ava’s hesitant, careful tone throws her off, leaves her disarmed, wanting to please—and _that,_ she doesn’t quite know what to do with, besides give into it for the moment. Ava asks nothing and everything of her, and Winona gives in before she ever really put up a fight.

“...Okay.” She nods.

Ava blinks, surprised, and then suspicious.

“Okay?”

“I’ll stick by you.” 

Those words feel weightier than they are, sit uncomfortably in her mouth, like a note slipped into a jacket pocket. Simple, but real. A promise. 

“I am being serious, Winona.” Ava says, insistent and unrelenting, like the capitulation’s emboldened her—but Ava du Mortain has never been anything but surefooted, relentless, and Winona isn’t surprised, even as she takes a retreating step backward.

Winona rolls her eyes, clinging onto her last bit of defiance. “And I’m not lying. Can’t you, like, use your superhearing and listen to my heartbeat and tell or something? I won’t f—” _Fuck this up for you,_ she almost says, but Nat’s been trying to get her to cut back on the cursing. “I won’t mess this up for you.”

“Your heartb— I am not a _comic book_ character, Detective.”

“Oh my god,” Winona gasps, a grin splitting her lips. “Did you actually just get my Daredevil reference?”

Ava’s jaw snaps shut, and she straightens up, taut as a rope. “That is irrelevant.” 

“Daredevil? Really? I would’ve thought you’d be more into, like, _Blade_ —”

Ava interrupts sharply with one more step, no more than a foot between them now, her hand hovering out, almost curving around Winona’s arm. “I need your word.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Your word.” She repeats, fingers curling around Winona’s elbow, drawing Winona’s attention to the touch. Her heart skips a beat, her mouth drying. Ava’s fingers are long and sturdy, and when she holds her it is with the same kind of care she takes when handling a glass of wine. 

“That’s…” her voice breaks into a minor rasp, and she clears her throat. “Kind of intense, isn’t it?” 

“Not when your safety is at risk.” Ava says, and it— it is overwhelming, almost. The look in her eye. The weight of it, her. Pressing down, like the hand on her arm. 

And for once, Winona doesn’t argue. Her mouth dries a little, even as she leans into the touch, staring deeply into those green depths. “I… alright.”

Ava nods. “So I have your agreement?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, raising her hand up, pinky jutted out. “Pinky swear.”

Ava stares at her hand. Then looks back at her.

Winona scoffs, but doesn’t drop her hand. “What, you dunno what a pinky swear is?”

“I am… aware of the concept.” Ava says, each word coming out more and more resigned, a sigh heavy in her mouth. “Though I find it rather juvenile.”

“Okay, well. You get what you get, du Mortain. You want my word or not?” Winona pushes her hand forward, insistent, barely biting back a grin. And truth be told, she has zero expectations that Ava will indulge her on this. She’ll keep her promise either way, but it’s fun to push the issue. 

Ava watches her carefully, no doubt questioning every single life choice that has brought her to this moment. 

Winona waits for her to stomp off, or tell her to stop being so childish.

Then her shoulders slump, her eyes roll, and she groans. 

“Very well.” Ava relents, linking their pinkies together. And not lightly, either. She curls a loop tight enough to draw attention to itself, and she holds, pulling Winona’s hand almost to her chest. Keeping Winona’s stare all the while. 

Winona can’t help it—her grin splits ear-to-ear, sudden and bright and as light as she feels. Ava du Mortain is making a _pinky swear._

“I expect you to keep your promise, Detective.” Ava murmurs, tone softening around her title, clinging on. And isn’t that something? Ava, almost imploring, their fingers locked together.

“Wouldn’t break it for the world.” Winona says, and she realizes she means it, steady as a promise should be. 

Relief pours across her face, easing the crease of her brow. Ava’s other hand comes up, lightly grasping Winona’s, keeping her near—and she is near, near enough that their chests almost brush with every inhale. 

“Thank you.” 

“Whatever you need.” She whispers, leaning up.

Only then does Ava realize their position, promptly pulling away, drawing her hands safely behind her back again. Disappointment tears through her, and Winona shoves it down, back into a place she doesn’t have to think about it.

“We should—” Winona stumbles back, trying to clear her head of Ava and how soft her skin is and how warm her palm was, wrapped around her hand like that. “We should meet with the others.”

Ava glances away, her focus heavy on some spot on the wall. “Yes. Yes, of course.” 

“Then I’ll, uhh… see you… at the car.”

“Indeed.”

And Winona near runs out the door, heart jittery and cheeks on fire, wondering what the hell was that all the way to the SUV, where Nat and Farah and Morgan are already.

Farah grins, amber eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, what took you so long—”

Winona holds up one finger. 

“Don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> like always, feel free to hmu on tumblr @dumortainava


End file.
